


Strexstuck

by vanishedSchism



Category: Homestuck, Night Valestuck - Fandom, Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Desert Bluffs, Post-Sburb, Strexcorp, night valestuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-11 20:12:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanishedSchism/pseuds/vanishedSchism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The game was over.<br/>They were supposed to have won.<br/>But when he was separated from all his friends, living in this disturbing town with a man who smiled far too much and with no knowledge of their whereabouts or even if they were even alive, could this be considered 'winning'?<br/>That was a question for another time. For now, Karkat had a job to do.<br/>He wondered what ghastly assignment Kevin had for him today.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>Inspired by and set in the same universe as corvusTempus' <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1051890/chapters/2104888">The Longest Surviving Intern at Night Vale Community Radio.</a></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Longest Surviving Intern at Night Vale Community Radio](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051890) by [Empirate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empirate/pseuds/Empirate). 



> This chapter is written in the form of a radio broadcast. Later chapters will probably be a mix of third person and broadcasts. Who knows, maybe I'll get creative and include some other media too.

Too many cooks spoil the soup, so does a dose of cyanide. Welcome to Desert Bluffs. 

It is a beautiful day, as usual, and here at Desert Bluffs Community Radio, the entrails are just glistening in the baking heat. 

Maria Brighton, of city planning, would like to remind everyone to make sure they drive to work next Monday. The streets _will_ be flooded and trust me, you do not want to drink, smell, or come into any contact at all with that water. 

On a completely unrelated note, Tony Michelis would like to remind everyone that he will be selling gas masks at his general store this weekend. They'll be twenty percent off. 

In other news, according to Intern Silas, there are children playing in the deserted playground next to the StrexCorp factory. Desert Bluffs, do not play with these children. Do not attempt to contact or communicate with them. We almost lost Silas last night after a- 

*Crashing sound*

Oh my, dear listeners, it seems there's been a recent development in current events.. Vanessa is taking care of it, but Desert Bluffs, well it's strange. 

First, I'd like you all to know that I did check my calendar, and I would have checked with Intern Lukas, had Intern Lukas not mysteriously disappeared yesterday. My condolences to the Friese family, but his next assignment was to cover the Desert Bluffs City Fair from the inside this weekend, so is it so bad that this came a moment sooner than expected? The answer, of course, is no! It's not that bad. Anyway, with the passing, I'm sorry, unfortunate disappearance of, because people always come back from those, our dear Intern Lukas, we now have a spot open at our humble little radio station. So, if you're especially interested in the news, or, to the parents, if you need an appropriate threat to discourage your children from making phone calls without your permission, remember to think of us!

As I was saying, I checked the calendar today, and it is definitely not Wednesday. Obviously people appearing your place of employment or residence is completely natural and should be expected every Wednesday, but Desert Bluffs, I just don't know what to make of this out of routine event!

And even if it was Wednesday, which, I can assure you, it's not, the apparitions only stay for about seven minutes. Well Desert Bluffs, far more than seven minutes have passed, and, hang on, let me check. 

*Muffled grumbling and growling*

Yes Desert Bluffs, our visitor is certainly still corporeal, and what's more, awake!

Now listeners, I can imagine you're wondering if I properly welcomed our guest and I have to say, I'm appalled you'd even consider that I wouldn't! Of _course_ I bound and gagged him. 

Although, oh dear listeners I'm so sorry. I realize that I shouldn't assume a gender just because our guest looks typically male.

But I digress. As I was saying, yes my fellow citizens, I did give them the Ol' Desert Bluffs welcome! 

*Growling*

And it looks like our friend is getting impatient, so I'm going to give you all a treat. Keep your radios on, because we're broadcasting the interrogation.

*Shuffling sounds. A new voice, a little more nasally and filled with anger speaks.*

"…bulge-sucking, uneducated sphincter. Now if you would kindly LET ME GO we can talk about this like two somewhat less uncivilized chafing seedflaps."

I'm sorry friend, but I can't do that! It's company policy, really. Thoroughly welcome all new arrivals. It says right here in the manual."

*Shuffling pages*

"I don't give a flying fuck what it says in some asinine manual and there is no dark and miserable corner of the universe where we could be considered friends. Untie me right now or I will release godly powers on you and all your crawling brethren."

*Dangerous tone.*

You must be mistaken. We only have one God here. Our God is a smiling God, a-

"Save the theological banter for after I block my aural sponges."

Do you rescind your claim?

"What the fuck ever, just let me go."

I'm sorry to inform you of this, but that's not possible. 

*Deep inhalation. Speaking continues, in a more controlled voice.*

"Alright, I lied about the god thing. Made you look. As Egbert would say, 'haha, man that was so good, you should've seen your face.'"

Are you sure?

"Don't you think I'd know if I was an all-knowing deity?"

I'd think you would.

"Well trust me when I'm not. Now that the not-at-all pleasantries are out of the way, where the fuck am I?" 

I didn't tell you? Do forgive my rudeness. 

*Brightly.*

You're in the Desert Bluffs Community Radio Station. I'm Kevin.

"You're crazy."

We're all a little crazy.

*A pause*

"Yeah, I guess we are. Uh, I'm Karkat by the way. And yeah, I'm male." 

Nice to meet you Karkat! Do you intend to stay here?

"I'm literally tied up, I can't really go anywhere else."

*Laughter.*

That is true! Well, it's true for now. However, the future is constantly changing. If you'd like me to let you go, I can offer you a job.

"I can't think of anything else I'd do."

And don't worry, it'll be quite fun. Such a blast, as the kids say. Now, I just need a verbal confirmation. Will you, Karkat, sign on as a Desert Bluff Community Radio Intern?

"Sure. Why the hell not?"

And there you have it listeners! Intern Karkat has filled the position. With that wonderful news, I take you to the weather!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two is now up in its entirety! Italics are Kevin broadcasting (don't worry, he's not in the house) 
> 
> If you read this chapter on February 16th, you may want to reread, or possibly you've already absorbed all the new dialogue through an experimental technique StrexCorp has been developing. If you experience any harmful side effects, such as shifting realities, dreaming with your eyes awake or death, we're sorry, but there are no refunds.  
> StrexCorp. It is everything.
> 
> However, if you have not had any probes in your ears while you were sleeping the past couple nights, you probably haven't experienced this new technology and should just reread the chapter.

In Desert Bluffs, people were constantly disappearing. whether it was because of a temporal shift that caused buildings to spontaneously vanish, resulting in some nasty head knocks, or from the local fauna. Karkat had already had a run in with a very nasty wolf spider and while he didn't ever feel like he was truly in danger, he wasn't eager to repeat the.. furry… experience. In fact, many times a resident would just straight up leave their house in the morning and just not return in the evening. Sometimes people denied that anyone had ever lived there and all. 

This meant there were a lot of empty houses in Desert Bluffs. 

All of this added up to Karkat having his own place to stay. He appreciated the chance to be alone. Even on the meteor he'd had a hard time finding solitude. His friends were great of course, when they weren't killing each other, but a guy had to have his privacy, and Karkat especially, used to hiding in his hive for fear of someone discovering his mutation and culling him, isolation was important. 

And now, here he was, alone. Sure, there was a moving statue that liked to sit in front of the door and hum occasionally, and all the tables must have had bad experiences with their parents and trust issues so they could never stay in one spot for an entire day, but Karkat didn't mind the moving furniture. After all, none of it talked. All he needed were a couple of posters of Troll Will Smith, and this place would only be slightly less shitty than his hive back on Alternia. 

Karkat was reflecting on just how difficult procuring said posters would be when he remembered that he had to report a story this evening. 

Well, Kevin would report the story, but like the unprepared ass he is, he gets all the material day of, from his interns, and as the name tag just a shade lighter than the blood of a lisping hacker he used to know reminded him, he was now one of those poor unfortunate souls subject to Kevin's every whim and desire. 

Karkat had actually been in Desert Bluffs for two days, which he remembered Dave informed him were the same length as nights, with the only difference being it was the time the sun was up, so yeah it was actually exactly like days on Alternia, except the sun didn't bake you into little ash piles, and he still had no idea what Kevin expected of him. 

The first day he'd just hung out in the radio station and watched Kevin giving his broadcast, then yesterday he'd spent the day exploring the town, because 'a good intern needs to always know where he's going, and also where never to go unless he wants to end up a steaming pile of goo,' in Kevin's own words. Karkat was partial to not being liquified, so he took the tour. 

For the most part, the residents were nice, too nice, Karkat considered them nice to the point of creepy, but he was a hermitic, paranoid, fuckbulge, so what did he know? Anyway, at least Karkat had some idea of how the town was laid out now. 

And with all that wonderful knowledge meant that Karkat was finally ready for his first assignment. 

The only problem was, he had to report back this evening, and Kevin hadn't even told him where he was supposed to go, much less what he was supposed to do. 

He remembered Vanessa, who seemed to be the most senior intern at the station, told him that if he was ever confused or at a loss for what to do, he should scream all his insecurities in front of his bathroom mirror, and if an answer didn't arrive in a pitch-black envelope in his freezer exactly three minutes after that, he should just turn on the radio. 

Well, Karkat had plenty of insecurities and very little time, so he skipped the first step and hunted down his usually-living-block table. After about five minutes of searching, he found it and turned on the radio. 

As soon as the button was pushed (Karkat didn't have to change the station, he was pretty sure if he touched that dial he'd end up accidentally setting off a nuclear bomb, or at the very least a bomb full of purified mint, which, while not as dangerous, stung quite a bit more and should be avoided at all costs) Kevin's voice filled the room. 

_And so in conclusion dear listeners, they mystery meat is not harmful, but nevertheless should not be touched. If you are adamant about having a pet, and really I'd recommend spider deer over sidewalk meat any day, please make sure to properly harness and muzzle your new companion. You know what happened last time._

_On another note, we've had several residents call in complaining that the lights in their home have been flickering on and off, at not quite random intervals. Well this is exciting news indeed, because we all know what not quite random means! I will have an Intern translate the code, from a preliminary description I expect it's some strain of Transylvanian Morse but more on that later._

_Speaking of Interns, I was supposed to have another story to report to you, but it seems the coverage of the Desert Bluffs City Fair is going to have to wait until next year, because the Intern that task was assigned to hasn't showed up with his report. Now I know, Desert Bluffs, that I shouldn't be too hard on him, after all, it is his first assignment, and he does seem temporally confused and I'm almost certain he's an alien from a different planet, but really, is it too much to ask that he does his job on time?_

That was followed by a long drawn out sigh. 

Karkat matched it with one of his own. He would be on his assignment by now if he had known what it was before turning on the radio. This was almost as bad as grubsitting the ectotrolls in the lab. He waited, almost patiently, for Kevin to get to the point and tell him where the fucking fair was. 

_Anyway, as I was saying, there will be no stories today about the area immediately surrounding Exit 66. I sincerely apologize on the behalf of all-_

There, he had a location, that was all Karkat needed to hear. He turned off the radio, grabbed the things he'd need, fastened his badge, then headed off to the Desert Bluffs City Fair.


	3. Chapter 3

The Desert Bluffs City Fair, surprisingly, from the outside at least, actually looked like a normal fairground. 

Not that Karkat had ever seen a fairground, given he barely left his hive in Alternia, he had no desire to be culled after all, but they were often featured in his romantic comedies, and back on the meter, Dave included descriptions of them in his "Earth 101" lessons. Karkat could never understand why he used the phrase '101', given he certainly learned more than one hundred and one things from those sessions, but he chalked it up to a weird human thing and moved on. Anyway, from the outside, the fair looked like what the movies showed. 

There was a large, slowly rotating fair wheel, and although Karkat couldn't actually see into the cages, he could imagine human couples in all quadrants- no, in their single human quadrant- laughing and telling jokes and making fun of each other, maybe even kiss as they saw the glistening (come on, even blood is romantic from that height) streets and skyscrapers of the city of Desert Bluffs. 

Karkat found himself smiling as he thought about the fictional couple looking out over the city below. They were removed from the idiocy of the world, from the screams and desperate pleas of the dying and the not-quite dead, from the sky that shows the future and the relationships left mangled by so much stress and multicolored blood. He could imagine one of those people reaching out, subtly, romantically, to take his partner's clawed hand in- But that was enough fantasizing, he had a job to do. 

Karkat shook his head and got in line to get into the fairgrounds themselves. The line moved quickly, and in no time at all, the person at the ticket booth, empty eyes staring off into the distance, held out a pale hand, stained with what looked like oil. He wanted Karkat's admission ticket. Instead, the troll stood on his tiptoes, pinched his shirt in order to show off his intern badge and said, "I'm an intern." The man gave no indication he'd heard, and didn't break his dead-eyed stare with the horizon. 

Karkat waved his arms. No response. He remembered Tabitha had warned him this might happen. She said he just had to scream, she preferred bloodcurdlingly, though she supposed yelling really loud would work, although it was certainly less fun. Karkat had heard enough desperate screeching to last a lifetime and a half, so he decided to just yell. 

"I'M A DESERT BLUFFS RADIO INTERN!" he screamed in the guy's face. It worked. The man slowly turned his head to look at Karkat, then said, in a voice dull as broken glass, "I see that. Go on in." His gaze once more returned to the horizon, and Karkat stepped into the fairgrounds. 

He took a couple of steps and was almost immediately accosted by the smell of cooking meat. The aroma of burning fat and flesh just pulled him, as it did with almost every other guest, farther into the attraction. Soon he was surrounded by Desert Bluffs citizens of all shapes, sizes and colors, most of them laughing or grimacing, which generally amounted to the same thing. Overall, there was a sense of joy in the air. Perhaps it wouldn't make for the most exciting of broadcasts, but it was nice. 

Kevin had told him to pay special attention to the watermelon eating contest, so the first thing he had to do was find the watermelon eating contest. Wow, good logical thinking Karkat. Gold star. There was a lot of screaming coming from the area the smells of food seemed to be emanating from. When in doubt, head for the screaming. 

It turned out, everyone was screaming because their lives were in danger. Honestly, Karkat was somewhat surprised. He'd half expected there to be a literally 'shriek like you're about to die' contest and whoever let out the most spine chilling noise would win ten free raffle tickets. Instead, people actually seemed to be running for their lives. 

And the cause of the distress was exactly what he was looking for. Karkat could see a cheerily hand painted sign that announced "WATERMELON EATING CONTEST, WHOEVER'S STANDING WINS" next to a small pen with an open door. Around him, the majority of the screaming people had a leash around their wrists, attaching them to a large green and pink ferret-like reptile. As he watched, one woman picked up a golden goblet (they seemed to be scattered all around the immediate vicinity) as she ran. Unfortunately for her, she had to slow down slightly in order to scoop up the cup, enough that the weasel thing could lunge and bite her ankle. He fell with a scream and continued screaming as it tried to start eating her. 

The man beside Karkat raised a whistle to his mouth and the shrill sound summoned two boys with sticks, who immediately shoved their twigs in the creature's face to distract it from the woman on the ground. 

"'Nother one down," the man drawled. He seemed to know what was going on, so Karkat turned to him. 

"What the hell is happening here?"

"'Aint you ever seen a Watermelon Eatin' contest before?" 

Karkat gave him a look that said, 'if I had, I wouldn't need to ask you, now would I?' The man apparently understood and began explaining. 

"Well, you see them watermelons running about," he pointed at one of the green and pink scaly things. "They can't drink water, terrible for their digestion and continued health, so the city's got a game. Ya get yer very own watermelon and you can make it drink water, it gets all queasy an leaves ya alone."Karkat nodded to show he understood. That must have been why the woman, who had finally stopped screaming, though now some guy was yelling just as desperately, had picked up the cup. 

"Any one still up when all the melons are neutralized gets the prize," the man finished. Karkat thanked him, then walked over to the woman. He figured he should probably get her name, Kevin like details like that. She was still on the ground, though now she was sitting, her injured leg stretched in front of her. and the half full goblet of water next to her. He sat down next to her.

It turned out her name was Marlene Travis and she had entered as part of a dare. As was talking, one of the boys with sticks yelled and Karkat turned, just in time to see a hungry watermelon lunge toward his own outstretched leg.

Without thinking, he grabbed the goblet and poured the water all over his leg, where the scaled ferret was planning to bite. Amazingly, it stopped, sniffed his now wet leg, hissed at him, then began backing away. Wow. Karkat hadn't actually expected that to work. He stood up, and he made sure he kept a chalice of water with him as he watched the rest of the event unfold. 

That evening, he returned to the studio. 

_And so listeners, if your telephone rings and there is no one on the end of the line, don't panic. Because we all know where panic gets us, right? Right. And you do not want to go there. No, instead, reflect how lucky you are that there isn't someone on the end of the line. Be grateful that your family is still in their home, and those envelopes you keep under the gun in your nightstand, or perhaps in the secret compartment in your medicine cabinet, I hear that's the new fad, haven't been opened yet. Yes. Reflect. Be grateful._

He paused when he saw Karkat enter the studio. 

_And now, a word from our sponsors._

Kevin played the tape, then swiveled around on his chair to hear Karkat's news. The intern related his story, just finishing as the commercial ended.

_Listeners, great news! Intern Karkat is back from the Desert Bluffs City Fair and has the results of the watermelon eating contest! Now before we begin I have to say that this radio station does not, under any circumstances, condone the use, or withholding, of water as a deadly force. Got that kids? No water torture. If you /do/ have someone you want to make pay you can-_

"Mindcontrol their best friend into killing them," Karkat muttered. Apparently he was loud enough for Kevin to hear, because the broadcaster shot him a huge smile. 

_Exactly what Intern Karkat just said. Utilize the force of mind control in order to make someone they care about deeply torture them instead! And you guys said I made too hasty a decision in hiring our latest intern._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's chapter three. Sorry it took so long. And I'm so sorry about the watermelon thing, just roll with it.
> 
> I actually have some time to myself for a bit, so hopefully I'll be posting more frequently. Remember, if you have any comments/critiques, ideas for a future broadcast or suggestions for the weather (this can include original music) please message me either here or at vanishedschism.tumblr.com/ask and I'd be happy to talk with you! I hope you enjoy the fic ::)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hinting at Karkat's past in Alternia is so much fun. 
> 
> Credit to corvusTempus for the everyone getting sick idea (and the character Simeon, who will get a bit more of a spotlight later on) and remember that any of you can send suggestions for plot anytime through either your local CDS (Corvid Delivery System) or the less exciting but also less susceptible to transforming into a mass of worms and bones is tumblr messaging and email.

"Curiosity killed the cat. It also killed the dog. The hamster is not dead. Beware the hamster. Welcome to Desert Bluffs!"

"Good morning listeners! Well, good morning to some of you. TERRIBLE morning to most of you. Desert Bluffs residents, do you know why our thriving city is able to function as well as it does? While the radiation emitted by the Strexcorp factory that simultaneously calms and slowly alters the memories of citizens does play a large role, it's really hardworking citizens like you that allow this community to thrive. Without our citizens, we would lose the massive progress we've made toward ridding the city of any and all cats, we've almost wiped out the beasts, we can't stop now. Not to mention the walls would begin to ooze green slime again, rather than the reddish brown viscera and gleaming organs that we've all grown accustomed to here in Desert Bluffs Radio Station." 

"Speaking of the walls, they are going to get a fresh coat of paint of the purest hue you can find in any radio station, or desert town for that matter. Vanessa, send a smoke bomb to Simeon."

Vanessa looks up. She looks terrible. Her nose is runny and she's shivering slightly, despite the hideous orange fluffy sweater over her shoulders. Her voice sounds nasally and tired. 

"A smoke bomb?"

Kevin, on the other hand, looks as normal as he ever does. His void-like eyes swirl with emotion, though his face is otherwise expressionless. 

"The Lilac one. He will know exactly how.. displeased I am at his absence from the laboratory today."

Vanessa's eyes immediately widen, though it's clear she's careful as she contradicts her employer. 

"Kevin, the gas from the bomb will decay the faces of everyone in the area, surely you don't mean-"

"I do. This is a message for everyone, not just Intern Simeon. You and Intern Karkat are both here today. With that fact in mind, there is no reason for Simeon and the rest of his kind to be shirking his work just because their throats are a little itchy."

Vanessa apparently doesn't see the point in arguing any further. 

"Of course… I'll get the acid Sir."

A new voice, also nasally but not in the sick way more in the my-nose-is-always-blocked-no-matter-how-much-heated-herb-water-I-pour-down-my-meal-tunnel, pipes up. "Excuse me. I generally don't get involved in this hoofbeast shi- uh, waste, because I make the idiotic assumption that you all know what you're doing most of the time, but that is the most idiotic order have ever heard. Have you even looked at Vanessa recently?"

"Karkat I'm fine. Just a little under the weather. I mean we're always under the weather, or the absence of weather as the case usually is, but anyway, you get what I mean."

"Actually I really don't, and I really don't care. Kevin she is _leaning on the desk_ she can barely stand and there are so many used nose napkins on the floor that I feel like I have swim like there are ridiculously ornate fins on the side of my head just to get to your desk. Any good leader knows that they cannot work when their team is barely understandable because of blocked nasal passages. This Simeon guy is being responsible by staying home." 

Vanessa who is clearly trying to stay on Kevin's good side, a survival tactic Karkat hasn't quite picked up yet, cuts in. "I can still work Kevin. I'll just be a little slower than usual. I know productivity is very important to this radio station and to the continuing existence of the city as a whole."

Karkat scowls.

"She's being a pan-rotted idiot and you know it. If I heard right earlier, the entire city has caught some sort of weird flu thing. Can't everyone take a break? Jesus Christ-"

_Karkat!_

"I mean go-sh darn it… But seriously, even the Empire gives sick leave. If you're being more dictatorial than Her Imperious Condescension, you've really got some problems." 

Kevin just stares at him. For a moment Karkat seriously considers running out and chancing it in the desert, because it looks like he's really gone too far with his employer this time. Tension builds as the silence stretches. Finally Kevin opens his sharp mouth and speaks. 

"I don't know who this dictator is, but I'll have you know we have a figurehead semi-democratic council here in the Greater Desert Bluffs Metropolitan Area! And… you may have a point. But we cannot halt productivity for an entire day. There is order to maintain, skyscrapers to build, people to torture, not to mention the traffic lights at the intersection of Smiling Avenue and Pitcher Plant Road were scheduled to be fixed today!"

And all of a sudden he's back to his cheerful self. This mood shifting was almost worse than Sollux's on a bad week. 

"Dear listeners, I suppose I have to advise you to be cautious on Smiling Road today. Even though it is the most efficient way to get into the StrexCorp factory, especially if you're in a large armored truck with questionable contents in the back, I wouldn't want our newest intern, who will be out there fixing the lights, getting into any unavoidable accidents. Avoidable ones, of course, are all too common and simply can't be helped, but unavoidable accidents are the product of laziness and we do not tolerate laziness here in Desert Bluffs."

"Right well I guess I'll just get going then. Because you definitely didn't give me a direct order, and I certainly don't have the skills necessary to fix fucking traffic lights. If I were a double horned douchecanoe with an unnatural affinity for electronics, even those of this crazy planet, maybe I'd have a better chance, but as it is, even if I did know what I was doing I'd have no tools, so I'm going to go get someone less useless to go instead." 

Vanessa had quit the room at some point, so Karkat got no help from that quarter. Kevin had turned his attention back to his microphone and didn't even look at Karkat as he said, "The equipment meant for fixing traffic lights can be found in the properly labeled bin in the attic, also, Intern Karkat?" 

Karkat _really_ didn't like that tone of voice. "Yes Kevin?"

"Make sure you do an efficient job, because I want to see you back here when you're done. You seem to have skipped the manners and respect portion of our internship training." 

Karkat could tell when he'd been dismissed and he didn't waste any time getting out of there. The roof block, or 'attic' as these humans seemed to call it, was, almost surprisingly, located above the broadcasting booth. 

A thin, rickety ladder led up to a hatch in the ceiling. It took a little bit of effort to get the door open without falling off the ladder, but soon enough Karkat was crawling into the dark storage block. 

The attic was, in a word, horrifying. 

No, not because there were mummified corpses and period style clothes, and multicolored splatters that in a more innocent time he would have called paint (though he did forget he was on the human planet where supposedly everyone bled a just slightly darker red than himself) or even the phosphorescent plants hanging from the ceiling. No, none of that was what caused Karkat to stop in the middle of the room. What caused Karkat Vantas, the troll that lived in the society where every movie, show and even video game, featured brutal murders. Daywalkers and Aliens mostly, but there were plenty that used lowbloods, head as hot as their blood, leaders or savage and feral mutants that need to be put down as antagonists. Basically, it was hard to scare him with gore. And it wasn't gore that made him pause. It was this godawful mess. 

A mess worthy of a certain Pyrope. Actually scratch that. This attic was like Terezi had come over to Sollux's disgusting hive and decided to redecorate. Yeah, that was definitely a dragon skull in the corner, but it was covered in slime! Just like this entire fucking room. 

Karkat had to be constantly ready to flee his hive on Alternia, so he always had a day-cloak by the door and his important possessions packed neatly away. He'd gotten used to going without the day-cloak through the game, but he'd always kept his spaces neat and tightly packed. The troll that left his shit in the middle of the block lost his shit. 

He sighed and began looking for the drawer with the tools he needed. He could hear the twang of the weather report from the broadcasting booth downstairs.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time Karkat had found the drawer and tools (which took a ridiculously long time) and was on his way to the intersection with broken lights, Kevin had moved on from the normal broadcast to the sound of a steady and unchanging future. Karkat listened to the oddly comforting promise of stability and stagnancy as he made his way to the necessary intersection. 

Karkat had never owned a four-wheeled device, and while Kevin had assured him that none of the machines had a need for keys, and it was perfectly socially acceptable to do something Karkat was sure Dave had referred to as 'car-jacking' (which basically meant getting into a random vehicle and driving it away, apparently while escaping from law enforcement or running over prostitutes, if Dave was to be believed) but Karkat preferred to walk. You couldn't fight when strapped into a moving vehicle, and anyway, the entire point of this adventure was that the traffic lights were out, so he doubted the road would be very safe even without the threat of a potentially hostile citizen trying to 'carjack' his vehicle. 

And so he walked.

Karkat had long ago given up _expecting_ anything in or from Desert Bluffs, he'd like to think that if polka-dotted trunkbeasts began marching down the street while braying the Alternian Anthem, he wouldn't have been phased, but he had to admit, it was pretty creepy to see the streets so empty. 

If Karkat was pressed to describe his new home in familiar terms, he might have said it was a lot like a beehive. There was the Radio Station, which functioned almost like a Queen in that it assigned jobs and set out tasks, but for the most part the citizens were left alone so long as they were doing something productive. While 'doing something productive' was a constantly changing definition in Desert Bluffs, the one constant was that it always required movement. Whether someone was in their backyard doing the macarena in order to summon benevolent spirits, or running through the streets and screeching every time they saw a yellow sweater to record it for the census, the residents of Desert Bluffs were always out, about, and usually making a lot of noise. 

Except there was no one on the streets today. He was sure things would get more chaotic as he got closer to the StrexCorp factory, but here, in the little neighborhood the station was located in, Karkat couldn't see a single soul outside. There was the soulless husk at the street corner, the shriveled human that never moved or spoke, just swayed gently in the breeze, and they were still there, but as Karkat walked closer, he saw that even _their_ nose was running.

It struck him that the only people he knew that weren't affected by the virus were himself and Kevin. He quickly banished the thought before he began dwelling on just what he and Kevin seemed to share that wasn't common to the rest of Desert Bluffs. He had a feeling he wouldn't like where that train was heading. 

A couple moments after he thoroughly de-railed that idea, Karkat saw the sign for Smiling Avenue. Looking at the street, he was immensely glad he'd chosen to walk here. It wasn't until now that he realized _he didn't understand the traffic signals_. The light alternated between lime green, a far-brighter-than-natural cerulean, and even his own mutant red. They didn't even blink! Is that what they were supposed to do? As he stared at the lights, he realized just how out of his depth he really was in this position. He realized he had no fucking idea what he was doing. 

He wasn't an electrician. He wasn't really that great of an intern either. Half the time he didn't even know his assignment until Kevin began aggressively (there was nothing that passive about it) hinting that his newest intern was needed in the haunted housing development across town, or that _someone_ needed to be investigating that acrid smelling hole that opened up just in front of Town Hall this morning. 

Sure, he _did_ his job, but he didn't do it that well. He wasn't excelling. Really, he was completely disposable at this point, a position dangerous in the best of circumstances and deadly at the worst. If he performed poorly as a threshecutioner (assuming they ever let him in in the first place) he'd be culled as an example to the others. After all, inadequacy would not be tolerated within the Threshcorps. He would have expected Kevin to employ similar methods if he had more interns at his disposal, but as it was, his kind were a bit of a rare breed, culling them unnecessarily was a bigger drain on resources than a productivity-driven man like Kevin would allow. He hoped. Because really, he didn't know what he was doing; his quarterly performance report couldn't have particularly nice things to say about him. 

But wallowing in self-loathing had never solved any of his problems before, and as weird as Desert Bluffs was, he doubted his new location was going to change that. There was nothing for it but to clutch his toolbox, wait for an opportunity to cross the road, then dash across the intersection towards the supposedly malfunctioning light. He may be a shitty intern, but he had a job to do, and fuck-the-universe-with-a-rusty-spoon he was going to do it. 

He walked straight up to the traffic light and purposefully set his toolbox on the ground. He crossed his arms and walked around the pole a couple of times, observing the lights. The mutant colors continued to alternate, which Karkat had to figure was normal, but there was no regularity to the shifts. He could tell that was what was confusing the four-wheeled devices because he'd see them start to slow down only to slam on the accelerator as the color of the light suddenly changed. Clearly, the light's timing was messed up. Karkat nodded to himself, then opened his toolbox. 

The contents were surprisingly familiar. Wires, a wrench, some screwdrivers, all tools he knew how to use. He picked up the wire cutters and a screwdriver, then, using his clearly superior shit-climbing skills, hauled himself up the pole until he got to the electrical box. He unscrewed the back. One glance made it obvious that the wires were crossed. He wasn't sure exactly where each one was supposed to go, but it definitely wasn't where it currently was. He contemplated the organization for a minute, then leaned in and set to work.

A surprisingly short time later, he was done. The traffic seemed less confused, so he counted that as success and scurried down the pole. He hustled back to the radio station, after all, Kevin had said he wanted to talk as soon as he got back. 

His boss wasn’t lying and in fact didn’t even give Karkat a chance to drop his tools before swiveling on his deskchair, fingers steepled like a troll bond villain and stared straight at Karkat with his bloody eyes. 

“I’ve been expecting you,” Kevin said, as if that wasn’t the most cliché line in the book. Seriously, this guy _had_ to be trying at this point, because that was kind of shit John might pull, but certainly not anyone actually in their right mind. 

Kevin turned away for a moment to speak to the microphone. “And without further ado I bring you, The Weather!”

A sound that was akin to a horror movie soundtrack being played on a glockenspiel and accordion at the same time filled the room. Kevin nodded to himself, then stood up and looked at Karkat. 

“Come with me, we’re going to start your manners and respect training. Vanessa! Please cover for me when the weather segment finishes, as you know, this tends to take a while.” 

Vanessa shot Karkat a sympathetic look before saying, “of course Kevin” and sitting herself down in the broadcaster’s chair. The music got shriller and more intense as Kevin walked straight out of the studio, apparently expecting Karkat to follow him. After a meaningful look from Vanessa, he hurriedly nodded and did. 

Kevin was already speaking, even as Karkat ran to catch up with him. 

“… and because of that, we must never, ever, misuse the name of the Smiling God. I know that you come from a different culture with barbaric practices and for that reason I have been perhaps less harsh on you than I should be, but this is _very_ complex and organized institution and I will not tolerate the corruption your frankly… _banal_ language invites.” 

Throughout this monologue, Kevin’s tone didn’t change. He even began smiling at the end, though Karkat thought that’s when he was getting the most upset. And to be fair, he had reason. Since the first day, Karkat had avoided mentioning ‘god’ in any of his insults or exclamations, though the cheeky ‘gog’ was sometimes okay, but overall he had a large and vile mouth. It made sense that Kevin wanted him to tone it down. 

Kevin continued lecturing as they walked through the uniform hallways of the station, and by the time he opened a heavy unmarked door, his smile made total sense. 

“Christ on a shriveled nookworm, what the fuck is that?!” Karkat said, oh so elegantly, upon seeing the room Kevin had just led him into. If he’d thought the studio, with its draped intestines and bloody surfaces was gross, it had nothing on this room. The first thing Karkat noticed (actually, it kind of drew the eye) was a bone-white iron maiden, standing open in the middle of the room. He was pretty sure there weren’t enough spikes for it to be lethal, but the caked brownish stains, both on the casket and the floor made him less sure. Then, of course, there were the typical intestines draped over everything like particularly festive Gristmas lights, a rack in the shadowy corner, and what looked like all-too-innocent rods in one of the corners. Not to mention all sorts of scary looking sharp things scattered around the floor (actually, the more Karkat looked, the more he suspected that they were strategically placed on the floor so you’d either be constantly off-balance trying to avoid them, or step on knives, screws and pieces of glass just by being in the room. And shit, he’d just sworn again. 

Kevin looked at him with a completely blank expression. “Remove your shoes.” 

“Kevin, really, I get the point, I’ll be better about this whole swearing thing. Honestly, it’s just going to take some time-“ he was silenced by a withering glare and fell silent as he removed his shoes. 

Kevin motioned at the sticks in the corner. “Grab two of those.” 

Karkat glanced at the floor, then gulped and leapt from safe spot to safe spot, quickly moving to the corner without injuring himself. He picked up the two sticks and, at Kevin’s urging, once more traversed the treacherous terrain. This time, he almost fell when he misjudged the distance of one of his leaps, but he threw out the hands holding the sticks in front of himself and managed to restabilize. Once he was standing, Kevin took the second stick from him and once more began lecturing. 

“As I’ve said before, this is a core part of the intern training program, and I really should have done this before.” He punctuated the sentence by thrusting the tip of the stick straight at Karkat’s chest, forcing the troll to step back- right onto a nail. 

“WHAT THE SHITBLISTERING FUCK?” he yelled.

“See, this kind of language is simply intolerable for a radio station, or even Desert Bluffs itself,” Kevin said with no remorse in his voice, stepping forward and jabbing at Karkat again. This time the troll had a little more warning, so he jabbed right back. He earned a bruise to the ribs, but managed to force Kevin back as well. Unfortunately, the bastard was wearing shoes, so he didn’t have to worry about stepping on anything too hazardous. 

Of course, Kevin didn’t give him much time to enjoy his minor victory. This time he attacked while talking, then kept up the assault when Karkat finally got the bright idea to try blocking the stick the next time it came for him. 

“This is a respectable establishment,” Kevin continued, “and because of that there are certain rules and procedures that must be followed. For instance, coming to work on time, completing missions quickly and-“ he thrust harder that time, and once more Karkat found himself off balance as he tried to block. Kevin took the opportunity to use his stick to sweep Karkat’s feet out of from under him, leaving the troll to fall on his ass and slam one of his hands into a jagged piece of glass in the process. 

“Oh fuck, no no no…” Karkat stuttered, staring at his bleeding hand. Crimson blood flowed down the clear glass embedded in his palm and dripped, startlingly red, onto the slate floor. It took him almost a full minute to remember that he was on _Earth_ now where he wouldn’t be immediately culled for his disgusting blood. 

And Kevin wasn’t about to give him any breaks, because he just swore again. His employer savagely stabbed the stick at Karkat’s injured hand. This time, Karkat swallowed his exclamation and just stood up and began defending himself once more. Kevin smiled. 

Karkat wasn’t sure how much longer the ‘intern training’ lasted, but he was willing to bet it was at least a couple of hours. It didn’t take him too long to figure out that every time he swore Kevin would redouble his attack, but it did take quite a while to prevent himself from swearing on reflex. By the time the radio host put down his stick and proclaimed they were done, half of each of Karkat’s limbs were smeared with red, he couldn’t walk without a limp because of the glass embedded in his feet and Kevin barely had a scratch on him. 

He left with the warning that next time Karkat needed to be disciplined, he’d be introduced to the Maid of Bone, which Kevin described as an “experience that brings you far closer to God than many beings get to experience. Incredibly enlightening, but not a practice the station was fond of.” 

Karkat got the message and promised he’d be better about his mouth. Then he rushed home to lick his wounds and pick glass out of his skin.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day, Karkat made sure to get to the station early. He was still favoring his left foot, which got far more cut up than the other during his training yesterday, but otherwise he was able to work. Luckily, Kevin didn’t require him to be outside the studio today. The plague that had taken out ninety percent of the staff and city was still in full force, and because people only left their homes to go to work and then went straight back to bed, there was relatively little news to report. 

Kevin told him to find a way to make himself useful, so Karkat spent the morning filing and exchanging tired snark with Vanessa (who really should have been home, her eyes were dark and puffy and he was pretty sure her runny nose was dehydrating her faster than she could drink water). When that was done, she went off on some ungodly assignment and Karkat found himself in the uncomfortable position of trying to figure out some way to be useful. He supposed he could man the receptionist desk, but he wasn’t completely confident in his ability to keep a civil tongue, and Kevin wasn’t in the best of moods anyway… 

Then he was struck by a brilliant idea. 

“Hey Kevin, could I clean out the attic? I could even take inventory if you want, though that would take longer than just making that space walkable.” 

Kevin leaned into his microphone and exclaimed, more excitedly than anything he’d said so far that morning, “this just in listeners! Intern Karkat has volunteered to clean and inventory the attic today, so if any items have vanished from your house while you either were or were not watching, there _is_ a television channel that increases chances for random teleportation by about thirty percent, report it to the studio tomorrow and we will check if it has made its way to our spacious attic! And now we move on to the news. This building has begun oozing green slime. It hasn’t yet bothered any of the residents, though Intern Vanessa sniffs less often when near it. Our science division will begin analyzing the problem as soon as they arrive at their _jobs_ that so _graciously_ pay their bills. As for this Thursday’s Spectral Poker…” Permission obtained, Karkat tuned out at that point, choosing to focus on moving as painlessly as possible, rather than Kevin’s voice. 

Getting to the roofblock, it turned out, was not an easy process, especially as the thin wood cut into his already abused feet, but it was one he managed without too much hassle.

Looking around the second time was no less horrifying than the first because although he was prepared this time, now he knew that he also had to inventory all this crap, a prospect that left his head reeling. He realized then, as he stared at the towering piles of boxes and records and no doubt haunted trinkets, that he didn’t have anything to write on. 

He caught himself before he could swear (Kevin had ears like a squeakbeast) and instead set himself to the task at hand. There had to be some sort of writing implements around here. And if there weren’t, he wasn’t above getting something sharp, picking at one of his scabs and using his blood to make his inventory on the wall. It wouldn’t be pleasant, especially because the sight of his blood still made him feel a little sick, but it wasn’t an uncommon practice on Alternia. Besides, it was the kind of thing Vanessa would do without a second thought, and if Karkat wanted to stay here, being more like Vanessa was a good place to start. 

So, what would Vanessa do? Most of his friends would pick a random pile and just start sorting through. Terezi would probably keep going until she found the paper, Sollux would keep a mental record of everything he saw prior to his goal, Nepeta would probably immediately have started writing on the wall, though she would have found blood other than her own to do it. All of those were acceptable solutions, but too slow if Karkat didn’t get lucky. He knew Vanessa could get the task done in double quick time, the question was, how? He didn’t know her well enough to pick apart her thought processes, not the way he did with his friends. 

Though…

Vanessa was definitely no-nonsense and work oriented, but she was so good at her job because she understood how people, especially Kevin, worked. And he knew someone else who was caring, devoted and not intimidated by a homicidal maniac. Kanaya. And he knew what Kanaya would do in this overcrowded attic. 

She would find the pile that was most likely to have paper in it. 

Files. 

That was it. 

Now that he had something to look for, it wasn’t too hard to locate a large file cabinet in the back of the room. There was no guarantee there would actually be _files_ there, but it was a promising start. 

It took a little bit of navigating to get over there (in the process he accidentally knocked over a small cube that started then continued screaming until he managed to stuff it under a large pile of moving tapestries in a heavy wooden chest) but soon enough he was standing in front of the file cabinet. He stared at it for a moment, then approached and cautiously pulled at the handle on the top drawer. 

It rushed open with a startling sigh. Inside though, lay a single yellow notepad. Karkat reached into the drawer and pulled it out. He could see the impressions of previously written words on the front page. He ripped that page off and lay it back in the drawer, then took the rest of the pad with him. 

He found a feather which dripped liquid that, although it was a concerning shade of green, worked well enough as ink, behind a box full to the brim of taxidermied spiders. 

After that it was just a question of not dying as he began cataloging everything. 

Which went relatively well. Sure, there was that one photo album that started to replace all the images of a young human with seafoam hair and eyes a deeper blue than Equius’ would ever get with Karkat’s own bewildered face. As he turned the pages he noticed his hands were starting to become transparent, then he could hear breathing next to him. 

He didn’t even think about Blue Eyes’ incorporeality until after he’d lashed out and felt his claws pass through something cold but certainly not solid. 

What grabbed his arm felt substantially more solid. 

Karkat wasn’t sure exactly why Blue Eyes was trying to push him towards the book, but he knew enough not to let any of those pages touch him. He threw himself backwards, pulling Blue Eyes with him. 

Then Blue Eyes punched him and it actually hurt. 

Karkat growled and tried to retaliate, but his fist passed through Blue Eye’s torso. 

Fighting ghosts is completely unfair and should never happen ever. 

Luckily, Blue Eyes was so desperate to overpower Karkat (which it was shit at doing. Seriously, you’d think someone with the kind of upper hand Blue Eyes had would easily be able to throw a weakling like Karkat at a couple pages, but no, Blue Eyes never really got the upper hand) that it left itself way open for Karkat to kick the stack the book was resting on so that the entire thing came tumbling down. 

He rolled out of the way so the book never touched him, but Blue Eyes wasn’t so lucky. 

As soon as the cover touched Blue Eyes’ translucent skin, it disappeared with a piercing shriek. 

Karkat sighed and wrote down, _MEMORY ALBUM WITH ANGRY GHOST INSIDE- DON’T TOUCH_ on the pad. He then used other books (one tried to bite him, but for the most part they were harmless) to push the haunted album into an isolated corner where it wouldn’t hurt anyone else until another curious intern came back up here. 

After that, he settled into the routine of things. He only thought he was going to die two times. Not bad for a day’s work. 

By the time Karkat was once more descending the ladder that so cruelly bit into his feet, he had catalogued and sorted half the attic. He’d come back later, but for now, it was getting late and he wanted to make sure Kevin wasn’t still upset with him. 

His boss was broadcasting in the booth.

“And thanks to our hard-working waste disposal team, may they rest in peace, the situation has been contained and any slime that oozes out of your wall should be the usual green color. If your wall slime looks rustic or country-style radio in immediately and soak yourself in lemons while you wait for help to arrive.”

“Luckily, we don’t anticipate that being a problem. In other news, post-it notes have been banned in the city following a particular incident involving unwashed dishes, sexcapades and the unexpected summoning of the demon of virulence. Please, be responsible citizens and remember that dueling to the death is the established convention for solving domestic disputes. There are always referees at your local Sporting Goods. Use them.” 

“And now, sit back and relax to the sound of a middle-aged man questioning all of the life choices that led him to be where he is today.” 

Kevin flipped a switch and the track began to play. Then he turned his still unsettling lack of eyes toward Karkat. 

“Ah, Intern Karkat! I hope your day was productive?”

“Yeah, uh, here’s the list of all the things I found. It looks less like a certain blind troll held a court trial culminating in the tragic and messy death of a beloved senator now.”

“Fantastic!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after this the story is going to get a little more plot heavy, though I think that its particular charm lies in all the small non-relevant experiences I put Karkat through. 
> 
> Anyway, I eventually come up with plenty of those on my own, but I'm completely open to ideas/prompts, which will not only help me update more, but you might see your own ideas in this fic (with credit given to you of course) which y'know, is pretty cool. 
> 
> Anyway, hopefully I'll update again relatively soon, in the meantime feel free to comment or talk to me at any time!


End file.
